Johnson: A myth that shaped two movements

By EMILY JOHNSON

Monday

Jun 24, 2019 at 2:00 AM

One story serves as a foundation for both the LGBTQ rights movement and the Christian right, an early symbol of how the quest for equality might be attainable for the former, and an alarming sign that if the other did not organize, its values would be trampled.

In 1977, less than a decade after the Stonewall uprising helped to spark a new radicalism among gay and lesbian activists, they encountered a celebrity foe, Anita Bryant — evangelical pop star and Florida orange juice spokeswoman.

Bryant mobilized a backlash against new gay rights legislation, first locally and then nationally. Gay rights activists responded with a boycott of Florida orange juice. By 1981, Bryant was no longer an orange juice spokeswoman, and it seemed that the boycott had worked.

Both sides learned the importance of grass-roots organization and publicity campaigns, and accordingly formulated strategies that would become central for two of the most significant social movements of the late 20th century.

There is just one problem with this story. It's all based on a myth. Rather than ending the career of "the Florida orange juice girl" the boycott likely extended her time in the spotlight.

Greater impact

Though false, the story of the orange juice boycott shows that myths can sometimes have a greater impact than reality.

Until the 1960s, the gay rights movement, led by groups like the Mattachine Society and the Daughters of Bilitis, provided social support and lobbied for some gay rights measures, but public activism was limited. Most members were closeted, and the risks of coming out were too high.

In the 1960s, however, a new generation of activists was inspired by the radical and often theatrical politics of the new left, contemporary feminist groups and black power. The Gay Liberation Front and other groups began to insist on gay visibility and to demand equal rights.

By the late 1970s, gay rights groups were flourishing in the big centers of New York and San Francisco. They were also beginning to emerge in places like Miami, St. Paul, Eugene and Wichita. They had some success at winning inclusion in local anti-discrimination codes.

These victories energized the movement, but they were deeply troubling to Christian conservatives, who approved of the pre-1960s status quo and the legal bans on homosexuality that reflected their moral values.

Bryant shared those views. She also had a platform from which she could do something. She used her celebrity to mobilize conservative activists and draw media attention to gay rights battles.

Under the banner of her "Protect America's Children" campaign, she helped to defeat anti-discrimination codes in Miami, Eugene, St. Paul and Wichita.

The success of Bryant's first campaign in Miami prompted the gay rights movement to launch a boycott of Florida orange juice. Yet, what they didn't know was that by 1977, Bryant's status as the spokeswoman for Florida orange juice was tenuous.

Market research conducted by the Florida Citrus Commission revealed that her effectiveness as a spokeswoman had been declining for years. By the time the boycott began, the commission had already run successful tests on commercials to replace Bryant.

Personal strife

But the boycott placed the Citrus Commission in a precarious position. If they let Bryant go, they would appear to be either pro-gay or cowed by the gay rights movement.

In the end, the commission retained Bryant. She continued to be the face of Florida orange juice and the anti-gay-rights backlash until 1980.

Ultimately, it was her personal life that toppled Bryant. In 1980, her marriage fell apart. She initiated a messy public divorce over the objections of her husband and her pastor. Once a symbol of cheery suburban motherhood, she could no longer fill that role.

Only then did the Citrus Commission let her go, recognizing that her best selling points as a pitch woman were no more.

Activists on both sides, however, quickly jumped to the conclusion that became political gospel: The boycott had ruined Bryant. This interpretation was incorrect, but it has proven so powerful, despite its inaccuracy, because it expresses profound truths for both groups.

Bryant stoked this narrative. Almost as soon as she became involved in the campaign against gay rights legislation, she claimed she had lost bookings and been "blacklisted" because of the actions of the "militant homosexuals" who opposed her.

This story resonated with conservative Christians, who were just beginning to mobilize in new ways to protect moral values that they believed were under attack by the gay rights movement, feminists and other forces on the left. The idea that their standard-bearer had been brought down by gay activists provided proof to support the narrative of cultural alienation that animated this movement.

For gay rights groups, this interpretation was also profound. The boycott helped to transform a still fragile, atomized movement into a national powerhouse. Bryant became the national symbol that the gay liberation movement needed, and the boycott offered an opportunity for groups across the country to demonstrate solidarity with one another.

The boycott also made it possible for far-flung supporters to forge a personal connection with the movement. In cities and towns that had no gay rights hubs, individuals could still boycott Florida orange juice in a show of solidarity. For those who needed to stay in the closet, the boycott offered a means of quiet rebellion.

Folklore's value

Over time, the idea of the boycott's success became a kind of folk tale in the LGBTQ movement. And in the retelling, the story almost made itself true.

The boycott did not succeed in ending Bryant's tenure as the "Florida orange juice girl." But it did succeed in a broader sense by helping to forge a national movement.

History is about facts, but it is also about stories. And sometimes, the fact that a story isn't true doesn't necessarily render it meaningless. Modern folklore, like the narrative of the successful orange juice boycott, can often tell us a great deal about the communities that have treasured it and passed it on.

What we should ask ourselves as we sift through history is: "If it isn't true, why do we want it to be?" What can we learn from the story? In this case, it helps us to understand the perspectives and priorities of two significant and mutually opposed movements.

On one hand, we see the sense of cultural alienation that mobilized millions of conservative Christians into a movement that remains influential today, arguably dominating one of the two major political parties.

On the other hand, we see the forging of a national gay liberation movement built on common goals and shared battle stories like the orange juice boycott.

The needs of these two movements helped turn a myth into a lodestar for millions of activists, in turn helping to shape the politics of the past four decades.

Emily Johnson is an author and assistant professor of history at Ball State University. This op-ed was distributed by the Washington Post News Syndicate.

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